


Lori

by Artemisdesari



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Do Not Separate The Heirs Of Durin, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, F/M/M Relationship, Hinted Bagginshield, Lori's had it with everyone's shit, Multi, Nori is a Little Shit, Ri sister, because 7 year old me still wants it fixed, female oc - Freeform, summeries will never be my strong point, this didn't go where I expected it to, timeline fudging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-03 13:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17285375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemisdesari/pseuds/Artemisdesari
Summary: Because of course her idiot brothers would go on that quest. And of course they would send her away to keep her safe. That worked out brilliantly didn't it, because now she's on a mountain watching as an army of orcs begin the process of potentially taking everyone she loves away from her. Not if Lori has anything to say about it. It isn't just her brothers in that mountain, the loves of her life are in there too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't actually written anything Hobbit based, ever. I haven't written much of anything in years because children happened and house buying happened. Then on Boxing Day Lori popped up and went "write me, bitch" and here we are. Go easy on me.

Orcs.

Orcs everywhere. As far as the eye can see surrounding the mountain, and from this vantage point she can see pretty far. The battle has barely begun and already the air is filled with the screams and shouts of the injured and dying as the stench of blood and guts and _orc_ turns the air hazy.

Lori, of the family Ri, looks down from her perch on the side of the mountain as four armies join in a battle that had become a foregone conclusion before the orcs had even arrived. Disgusting bastards. She had barely managed to avoid being caught by them herself, arriving only hours before Dain’s army and having left the day that the Lord of the Iron Hills had received word that Erebor had been taken and the dragon slain. The missive (which she had snuck into Dain’s office to read) had given her more than a little cause for concern. Which led to her current position on the side of the Lonely Mountain, perched precariously on a ledge as a battle waged below her.

Mahal curse Dori for sending her to the Iron Hills in the first place and Mahal _skin_ Nori for agreeing with the old fusspot. She should be with them in the mountain, she should have been on the _damn quest_ , not sneaking through mountain halls so far from home with her violet hood pulled over her auburn braids. Not listening to old lords discuss what they will do with their regained power once Erebor is claimed for their kind once more. Not hearing talk of treason already in the making when their king hasn’t even had a chance to _sit_ on his bloody throne.

Which brings her back to her original thought.

Orcs.

At some point her idiot brothers, their fool of a king and his pretty heirs will emerge from that thrice damned mountain and enter the fray. The King might have been gold sick (not that anyone will say it out loud she suspects) for the last week at least but with the mess outside his door he cannot afford to stay that way. And when reality finally breaks through his gold addled wits the noble hero will lead his twelve stalwart companions to their inevitable demise. She will take great pleasure in seeing Nori and Dori’s surprise at her arrival, although the light will probably leave their eyes soon after, they can’t have really believed that she would stay in the Iron Hills a moment after hearing of Smaug’s defeat. On top of that, if they think they can stop her from standing at the sides of her Ones and trying to keep _them_ alive long enough to discover if they are as much _hers_ as she is _theirs_ then her brothers don’t know her at all.

The crash of a boulder to her right makes her swear and shift. She pulls her hood tighter over her face, her violet cloak has been long lined with mottled grey and when she wears it reversed this way she is well able to blend with the mountain side as long as she is still. In this way the sun could shine full on her and she would not be seen so long as no one looked for her shadow. She moves. Her place on the mountain allows her to avoid most combatants, to watch the front door, but she fires the odd arrow into the mass of bodies to protect those of her kind who might fall otherwise.

Lori is not brave.

Contrary to all current evidence, that is. One doesn’t need to be brave to join a battle. One just needs to be in the wrong place at the right time. Or the right place at the wrong time. Whatever.

Anyway.

Lori isn’t brave. If asked, right now she would catalogue herself as stupid, impulsive and so very selfish. As far as she is concerned every bugger out there could die so long as her Ones and Ori live. Perhaps Dori and Nori as well, it’s long past time she forgave them for doing what they thought was best. Besides, she _has_ missed them. Well, maybe not Dori’s fussing.

So, stupid. Rushing into a battleground without armour beyond the light mail and leathers Nori always insists she wears when travelling would classify there. She only has her throwing knives, a bow and quiver with too few arrows, a short sword, the pair of poison coated daggers in the tops of her boots and the needle pointed spiked collar she wears. The spikes have also been dipped in poison and they have saved her life a few times. Don’t tell Dori that. He hates the thing with a passion and Nori isn’t keen on it either, too orcish. If they knew that it had actually done the job she wore it for they would never let her out of the house again.

Impulsive. Because who, in their right mind, races towards a mountain decimated by a dragon. A mountain with no food and a harsh winter on the way in. Who runs into a battle with no thought to weapons or armour? With no plan beyond _they are mine_ and _fight me if you want to take them from me_.

Selfish. She’s covered that already. Her Ones. Her brothers. Mahal take everyone else. They are the only five that matter. Not even the King.

Maybe the King.

Definitely the King.

_Six_ dwarrow matter. Everyone else can die. Except, perhaps, Dain because as _nice_ as Thorin Stormhelm is he isn’t ready to rule in his father’s place. And Dwalin, because Nori might deny it until he’s blue in the face but he _feels_ for the Guard Captain (even if the idiot refuses to admit it). The rest of the Company, because they have become her brother’s friends and helped keep them alive until now.

Damn. What happened to being selfish? She narrows her focus, five or six. Just three would be easier. Three she can handle and she’ll cross the bridge of _which_ three when it comes. This is a battle. If ever there was a time to be a little selfish then this would be it. Keep herself alive. Keep _them_ alive and if the them are as yet unspecified she’ll work on it. She just needs to focus on having a future.

A future, she huffs as she picks her way closer to where she thinks her family will emerge. A future is never something she really planned for, people in her line of work don’t tend to. Making a list in preparation, however, keeps her mind off the horrors unfolding below. A battle is no place for a thief, spy and occasional assassin. Talk about following in Nori’s footsteps.

Right, list.

  1. Hug brothers so tightly she might crush their ribs. The Ri strength didn’t exactly pass her by.  

  2. Punch Dori in the face for being so unexpectedly sneaky and going to Nori to find a reason to send her to the Iron Hills. Like the brother she takes after she has long learnt to ignore Dori’s fussing and disapproval (and avoid his hands when he tries to stop her doing something).  

  3. Punch Nori in the face for being the sneaky bastard she loves so much and sending her on a, mostly, fool’s errand to the Iron Hills. She snorts, Unofficial Spymaster for an exiled king indeed. If Thorin Oakenshield doesn’t make it official after all of this is over she will need to add ‘ _Punch King Thorin’_ to the list. Along with ‘ _don’t get executed’_ and ‘ _escape Erebor’_.  

  4. Grab her Ones by their braids, hair or coats, she’s not particular at this point, and kiss them senseless. Then return to her pathetic distant pining over them like the coward she actually is.  

  5. Punch dear, sweet Ori in the face for signing himself up for this stupid quest in the first place and kickstarting their whole damn family into being involved with the Mahal cursed thing. Never mind that all of her brothers are older than her, never mind that they should all know better. All this endeavour has shown is that they are more than capable of abandoning all the good sense they always claim to have. This situation is evidence enough of that and, as usual, they have managed to drag her into their mess.



Bastards.

There is the blast of a horn from inside the mountain. Thirteen dwarrow stream from the broken gates (if so few can really be called a stream when they are more like a splash or a sprinkle). She sheds her cloak before dropping lightly down behind the last of them. It is the toymaker with the axe embedded in his skull. Bifur.  He glances at her in surprise, grins and makes a gesture that can be interpreted as ‘watch your back’. She always liked Bifur. Back home, when she was a child, the others would be wary of him but she would sit at his feet as he carved and listen to the stories he growled out in ancient Khuzdul. Ori wasn’t the only smart one in the family and she had learnt the language young.

Naturally everyone gets separated, for a while she finds herself alone among unfamiliar faces and _dammit_ she’s a spy and a thief and an assassin. Her death dealings belong in shady ally ways and dark corridors, the delicate task of poisoning one guest at a dinner involving dozens without anyone being able to work out _how_. The last is something she will never admit to Nori she can do. She doesn’t belong here, on a battlefield, where everything is desperate and stinking. Where muscles that have been trained in quick and sharp hand to hand burn with exhaustion due to the constant dodge and duck and thrust of war in wave after wave of enemy fighters.

Eventually, where the fighting is the thickest, she finally finds one of those she has been looking for. Not her brothers, although doubtless they are around somewhere (she likes to think that she would _know_ if one or all of them had been cut down). Still, the bigger picture, her One (or half of it anyway) is alone and surrounded. His swords flash and black blood splatters around him with every hack and slash. His back is unprotected, his other half nowhere to be seen and that worries her. As much of a joke as it was back home that neither prince would be seen without the other being nearby there has always been a measure of truth to it. They are stronger together and always have been. In this situation, finding one of them alone is potentially deadly.

Lori knows them, of course she does because otherwise she wouldn’t know with such certainty that they are her One. As unofficial as Nori’s position is (and as crazy as that drives Dwalin which is always fun to watch), Lori’s is even more so. A young dwarrowdam in a sea of young dwarrow trying to catch the eyes of the handsome young princes would not be remarked upon and _someone_ had to keep an eye on them. Covertly anyway.

She had been as surprised as anyone else that the princes had actually noticed her. Even more surprised when they had welcomed her into their circle of intimate friends (she still suspects Thorin had something to do with that), but her proximity allowed her to thwart _five_ assassination attempts. She has not dedicated all of that time to saving their hides, built those strong friendships and lost her _heart_ , to let some filthy _orc_ take them from her. It is long past time that she moved out of the shadows, (such as they are when she is standing in plain sight and unable to take the credit because she has to maintain her cover) and come forward as the guardian she has long been.

 Slash. Duck. Rip. Cut. Stab. Roll. Twist. Thrust.

She has her back against Fili’s, her movements automatic, and she barely spares him a glance before she is deflecting another blade and another blow. A glance is all she needs, however. Nori taught her as a pebble to _see_ as much as possible in the quickest look. He had enemies, he’s managed to piss off just about every _wrong_ person imaginable at some point, and even the smallest detail could save a life. They would rarely have time for a meticulous examination of everything so _seeing_ more became something drilled into both her and Ori. It has saved her life, her family and even the princes more than once.

Fili looks, quite honestly, like shit. Under the black orc blood and splashes of red from human, elf and dwarf (and some of that could well be his own), his skin is pale and his cheeks slightly sunken as though he has not eaten well for some time. His braids aren’t quite as meticulous as usual and his eyes are dark rimmed. She wonders if Kili is in a similar state. The journey must have been harder than Nori’s few, brief, notes implied.

“Lori!” He exclaims in surprise once they have managed to fight their way out of the press and to the relative safety of a corner where they can take a moment to catch their breath.

She grins and gives him a mocking little salute with two fingers before clambering up the rock next to her so that she can look out over the battlefield. She needs to find Kili, hang the others. Finding Dori, Nori and Ori would be nice, but they can take care of themselves, as can Thorin. This is no time to stand and chat and Fili will be better with Kili _at_ his side rather than worrying about him. She hears her companion climb up beside her, they are exposed but so far have not caught the attention of the army around them. It looks bigger than she remembers it being earlier.

“What are you _doing_ here?” He demands, grabbing her arm and pulling her around to face him. “You are supposed to be in Ered Luin. _Safe_.”

She meets his eyes and the expression in them is… Oh. What a time to discover that _he_ is as aware as _she_ is. It shouldn’t be a surprise, even though it is. They are all young, she has seven years on Fili but in a race as long lived as theirs seven years is nothing, and the princes aren’t as stupid as they would like everyone around them to think. Their stupid act is as much a defence as her ‘craft’ in weaving. They are _naïve_ , however, more than she has ever been, and although she thinks that this trip will have stripped a lot of that from them she has also always assumed that their naivety would have prevented them from realising that there was someone else for them other than each other.

A battlefield is not the time for this kind of life changing realisation.

“I haven’t been in Ered Luin since well before _you_ left,” she tells him with a feral grin that falters when she spots Kili.

The sheer _size_ of the orc that he is facing is horrifying and it gets worse when she spots Thorin, already down and injured, behind the great beast. Goblins (and where the fuck did _they_ come from) press in against him and Kili is obviously desperately trying to protect his uncle. He is also just as obviously beginning to tire. Fili spots the same thing that she does.

“Get somewhere safe,” he orders. Her heart clenches in her chest.

“Bollocks to that,” she snarls in reply, already reaching for her sword. “I’m not leaving the two of you out there.”

“If I…” Fili begins, “If we…” he falters but their eyes meet, and she _knows_ what he is trying to say. Knows what he wants to tell her, but this is neither the time nor place for big declarations and if they get through this alive they can come back to it then.

“I know,” she touches his cheek, “I feel the same.”

And that is all they have time for. She dives back into the writhing mass of bodies and trusts that he is behind her as they hack and slash and stab their way through to king and prince. By the time they reach the orc Thorin is surrounded and Kili is down, an arrow sticking out of his calf and his sword arm at an odd angle. They don’t speak, they know one another’s strengths from years of friendship and sparring together at home. Fili is the better swordsman, so he will need to be the one to clear the knot of goblins around the king. Which leaves the white monstrosity for her.

Fabulous.

The vile thing is a _lot_ taller than she had thought. Sometimes she forgets how tall Kili actually is. It is lifting its mace to take a final strike at the young prince and Kili will not be able to deflect it. Nor will she. Lori has the strength, but she lacks the shield or armour. She sprints to them instead, dives and uses her momentum to push Kili out of the way.

There is a rush of air behind her, she _feels_ it against her back and knows that had she been half a second slower the blow would have fallen on her skull. So much for that list. There is no time for distractions, though there are so many around her, like Kili’s pained shout from where he landed and Fili’s cry in response to reaching his uncle. She has an orc to stop and princes, her Ones, to protect.

“These are _mine_ ,” she snarls and the orc chuckles before rumbling something in his vile tongue.

He drops his mace to one side and slashes at her with the claw that has replaced one arm. She dodges, and ducks and it doesn’t take her long to realise that he is toying with her. That he has drawn her away from Kili and she can’t allow that. He is _hers._ Fili is _hers_ and, by Mahal, there is no _fucking_ way she is letting a _damned_ orc take them from her.

Then the orc’s claw rips her sword from her grip and its hand closes around her neck and lifts her. Shit. She can hear Kili shouting, Fili as well, can see the younger using his other hand to fend off goblins clumsily as he tries to get to her. His heart is in his eyes and what a time for her to realise that _he_ knows too. Mahal’s _balls_ , they couldn’t have realised feelings and destinies and all the rest thirteen months ago could they?

 The orc is snarling at her, she doesn’t understand but it probably has to do with making her Ones watch her die before he kills them so that she knows her sacrifice was for nothing. One of her hands is groping at the small of her back for the dagger she keeps there and her other is around his wrist. The orc squeezes and she feels it flinch, just a little but it is enough to let her know that the spikes at her neck have done their job, enough that she can grab the dagger she has been searching for and bring it around to thrust it into the arm that holds her. She slashes, hard, and the orc drops her, staggering. She coughs weakly as pain blossoms in her ankle from her awkward landing. She can see the blood welling from the wounds in his hand, small and inconvenient if not for the wide slash in the creature’s arm, but they’re evenly spaced and filled with poison. Unfortunately, the poison won’t kill him. This orc is too big and the creatures in general are just vile and poisonous all on their own. It _will_ slow him down, though, and in the end that is all they really need.

The tip of a sword appears between the orc’s ribs and he turns cold blue eyes down on it in surprise. Lori has enough presence of mind, even though it’s not as easy to breathe as she would like and her ankle throbs, to roll to one side and grab her fallen sword as she does. By the time she has run through a goblin that got too close and struggled to her feet the orc is down, an elegant sword in his back and Thorin is stood near it propped up by Fili. The prince still has his sword, so the king must have made the deadly thrust. Her ankle goes from under her as she tries to move closer and she stumbles with a yelp that feels like broken glass in her throat.

They are _all_ injured. Kili’s arm and leg, her neck and ankle. Thorin has several arrows sticking out of him and there are ugly gashes seeping red blood on his torso and arms. There is a sluggishly bleeding slash to Fili’s chest that runs from the bottom of his ribs on his left to his right shoulder and a cut across his hairline that has bathed his face in a mess of red. They are in no shape to be fighting, not to stand against the tide of goblins and orcs and not to get _out_ of this mess to find a healing tent. They are surrounded and there is too damn many of the enemy. This has all been for nothing and they are all going to die here.

Nori will find a way to resurrect her so that he can have the pleasure of killing her himself.

Still, at least she will get to die side by side with her Ones. She will never have to know the pain of trying to carry on in her life without them. She and Fili keep the enemy away as best they can while Thorin binds Kili’s broken arm across his chest. At least that way the youngest can go down swinging. Then they all stand back to back, braced against one another as much they can be without hampering their fighting ability too much, heads held high and screaming battle cries as they face their apparently inevitable demise.

Mahal.

Lori has so much that she wants to say. So much she still wants to do. She finally has numbers six, seven, and eight for her list. Marry her Ones, have their children, live happily ever after. Who said a thief couldn’t dream of the fairy tale ending? It’s not _fair_. But then, as Nori often reminds her, life rarely is.

She doesn’t manage to block a blade fast enough, feels it sink into her shoulder and grits her teeth against her own scream as she hears Kili cry out beside her. The others are faltering too, their injuries too much and the enemy too many. They are exhausted and there is almost nothing left in them to give to this battle. That they have lasted as long as they have is a miracle. She was stupid, so _fucking_ stupid, to think that they could possibly survive this. To think the _she_ could have made any difference at all. Stupid.

Then a cry goes up, although what it is she doesn’t have time to process because she has been scooped up by a taloned foot and, _shave her beard_ , that’s a giant eagle. Kili is in the other claw, when she manages to twist her head just right to look, and he is far calmer than she is. It surprises her given that they have just left his brother and uncle. Then her gaze shifts, and she sees another eagle carrying the king and missing prince behind them. For a moment she wonders if they are about to become eagle food but the other three are too calm for that to be the case and either way she’s dead, so it matters not.

They are, rather unceremoniously, dropped to the ground outside a healing tent and left to pile together. They all shift sluggishly, movement is too much, and that is when the healers descend upon them. They are all scooped up to be carried inside. The king has already lost consciousness and the princes are both screaming for her as they are taken with him to a separate tent. She has spent so much time fighting to get to them this day that her instinct is to continue, but her limbs won’t obey her and though the shapes of their names are formed she can’t manage more than a whisper. Besides, they are royals of the elder line of Durin (she’s of Durin’s blood too but the Ri connection is somewhat murkier) and they should be treated under heavy guard by the very best. She will see them again later, she is certain, her brothers were part of the Company that retook the mountain after all.

She retains just enough presence of mind, which isn’t all that much given the grand scheme of things, to tell the healers to mind her collar. She doesn’t want to see them hurt by either spike or poison and they give her the space she needs to flick the catch, clumsily, on one side open so that it can be safely removed. Then she gives in to her exhaustion and the throbbing pain of her injuries and lets blackness claim her.


	2. Chapter 2

“…fucking _skin_ Olver if I ever get my hands on him.” She hears the familiar voice growl as she begins to wake. The anger is obvious but even that can’t take from the comfort and feeling of _home_ that it gives her.

She hurts. Oh, by Mahal, she _hurts_.

“You _said_ she was with someone we could _trust_!” Oh, Dori, silly, fussy, naïve Dori.

“Olver is nearly as trustworthy as _you_ ,” Nori hisses. “Apparently our youngest sibling is as good at sneaking as yours truly.”

“Learnt from the best,” she rasps as she finally forces her eyes open.

Her brothers, all three of them, are hovering near the end of her cot and all are in one piece (or enough of one that it makes no difference). Relief floods her and guilt twinges. She should have found them on the battlefield, she should have been at _their_ sides. Not next to a king who has always seemed to look through them unless he wanted something from Nori. Not beside a pair of princes she would dedicate her life to if they would only look at her one more time the way that they did when they all thought they were going to their deaths. A pair of princes who may very well yet break her heart.

“Namad!” Ori cries, at least _he_ is pleased to see her. His eyes are red rimmed, though, and she gets only a glimpse of the desperate shadows in them before he has engulfed her in a tight embrace. A pained cry falls from her lips and he releases her in horror.

“My shoulder,” she gasps but grips his hand with one of hers all the same. Dori and Nori are more gentle in their embrace, but it is not long before _Nori_ turns on her.

“What were you _doing_ out there?” He demands in a tone eerily similar to one Dori has used on them both any number of times. “I taught you better than _that_.”

And he did. Really, he did.

“You had no business teaching her at all,” Dori grumbles. She isn’t going to let that slide. Had Dori had his way all those years ago Lori would probably be dead in a gutter somewhere after sneaking out or as diffident as Ori. Not at all suited as the One of princes (which is something that really needs to be decided one way or the other).

“You did,” she says to Nori after a couple of false starts and a few sips of water courtesy of Ori. “But the letter after the dragon was strange. I got worried and needed to make sure you were all well.”

“So, you walked into a pitched battle,” Dori cries incredulously. “We sent you away to keep you safe!”

“And you had no business doing it!” She hisses as heads turn in their direction. “I’m of age, you should have let me decide for myself. For all you know I would have stayed in Ered Luin.” Nori snorts, he always did know her too well.

“What happened?” Ori asks, obviously trying to avoid the confrontation for all that she can see that he is genuinely curious. “How did you come to be with Thorin, Fili and Kili?” Bless Ori. He has always wanted to _know_ , to _understand_ and has ever been caught between two brothers who are polar opposites. Tugged in a third direction just as much by a sister whose curiosity is nearly as insatiable as his but who took the more dangerous route.

“I was looking for the three of you,” she says, and she can see that Nori knows it isn’t the entire truth, but then he knows all of her little tells. “I saw Fili was surrounded so I did my job. I protected him. We found Kili and Thorin and I tried to protect them too, as best I could anyway.” They would be the right words if it had been Thorin or Dwalin asking her. But this is Nori and he, unfortunately, always seems able to read between the lines.

“It’s _not_ your job anymore, Namadith,” Nori tells her. “I took you off it as soon as I realised that your heart had been touched.” Beside her Dori makes the kind of noise that tells her he has just received new information that he doesn’t like. She’s in no mood to listen to her brothers fight, nor is she in any state to take part in one.

“You can’t stop me from doing that which my heart demands,” she replies, and Nori rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in frustration. This is an old argument and one that draws out all the little mannerisms he shares with Dori and has tried to hide for most of his life.

Officially, she knows, she had been taken off discrete protection of the princes after viciously thwarting assassination attempt number three. She was still to watch over them, still to keep her ears open and eyes sharp, but she was to report all potential threats to Nori rather than dealing with them herself. Her reaction to attempt number three had been enough to show Nori that she had feelings for at least one prince, by attempt five she knows that Nori suspected the true nature and depth of her feelings. She would have obeyed him completely and only watched otherwise.

“I am never letting you out of my sight again,” Dori groans because, as she is told later, the fighting around the king and his heirs had been the heaviest and they would have _all_ fallen if the eagles had arrived even a few seconds later. She had run straight into the most dangerous section of the battle.

She only smiles at him in reply. Smiles even though she hurts and she’s tired and she wants to sleep for a thousand years. Smiles because Dori needs her to. Smiles because if she doesn’t all the horrors that she saw will catch up to her. Smiles because Dori has _never_ been able to keep her and Nori anywhere they don’t want to be.

For the most part, over the years, she’s kept her nose clean in Ered Luin. One of the pair had to and it’s always been easier for Lori to remain undetected since she doesn’t have her brother’s reputation (which he only gained because he takes too much pleasure in leading the guard on a merry chase). Long before she came of age she had been honing her craft on the road with Nori. Dori had tried to stop them from leaving every time, and had failed, and it had been the skills learnt and perfected on those trips that had allowed her to watch over the princes so easily when the time came. She has no idea what Dori thinks he will be able to achieve _now_ that he couldn’t _then._

“Did they survive?” She cries. “The King and the Princes. Are they… will they be…?”

“They’ll live,” Ori assures her although his face isn’t as certain as his voice. Dori is muttering behind his hands, likely a commentary on her foolish, gentle, heart. She begins to suspect that her Ones weren’t quite as discrete on the road as they should have been.

She _needs_ to see them, she realises. Ori’s words aren’t enough. She needs to see that they do and will live with her own eyes. She needs to know if it was only the imminent death that stalked them in the form of goblins and orcs which had made _that_ emotion shine from them in her direction. She needs to stop hiding her heart. She needs to stop fighting the way that her hands tingle when she touches them, the way that all she _wants_ to do when she’s near them is touch. She needs to stop fighting the dreams of them that leave her empty and aching and wanting.

She needs to stop turning into one of those characters from those ridiculous circulating romances she’ll never admit to reading. The horror of it.

“Thorin wants to know how soon Lori can be moved,” Balin says as he approaches. Lori frowns. She must be exhausted not to have noticed his arrival and she groans in pain when turning to look at him causes her head to twinge and her shoulder catch.

“Moved?” Nori demands and there’s a dangerous edge to his voice.

“Aye,” Balin sighs. She reminds herself to add him onto her ‘ _to be punched_ ’ list for letting Ori join the quest in the first place. “To the royal tent,” he continues. “The boys are refusing to settle until they see your sibling for themselves. Figured we would make everyone’s lives easier by putting Lori in with them. We’ll set up a screen, there will be more privacy in there than in here.”

There has to be at least twenty others in this tent alone that Lori can see, more elsewhere. Elves, Dwarrow and Men have all been brought to the same place to be tended and the healers are just as mixed. The privacy of the royal tent would be welcome, as would the relief of seeing her Ones with her own eyes rather than getting reports squeezed out of her reluctant brothers. Besides, there has to be someone who needs this bed more than she does.

“Take me, I’m theirs,” she says dramatically from her prone position. “As long as they don’t expect me to be good company. I intend on sleeping through winter.”

Balin’s smile is kind and warm. It almost makes her regret putting him on her hit list. Almost, because he eyes are _knowing,_ and a little smug and only Nori gets away with that shit as far as she’s concerned.

 “I will carry you,” Dori says, “your ankle is only sprained but it’s better you don’t put any weight on it.”

Which means that Dori is in full on smother hen mode. Fabulous. Maybe she should have just let the orc kill her.

Lori has been hurt before, of course, you don’t live as long as she has as a thief and spy without the occasional brush with other people’s weapons and dodgy landings. In fact, she’s been hurt worse while travelling with Nori, but Dori doesn’t know that. Dori doesn’t actually know all that much about what Lori gets up to even though he thinks he does. What he _does_ know about he disapproves of and she wonders if he knows about Nori’s unofficial position. The way that they have been going at each other over the years tells her he probably doesn’t.

Nori can be such a shit sometimes.

Dori has no trouble lifting her, blankets and all. He might be the strongest dwarf in Ered Luin, possibly of __anyone now living, but Lori is like Nori in that she is slight and lithe for one of their kind. Her kind of work doesn’t tend towards the building of large muscles and discourages the gain of excess weight. Even the craft she has taken up as a cover, and to stop Dori from breathing down her neck, isn’t one to change that. She would have liked to become a locksmith like Nori, which was _how_ he became such a successful a thief anyway because if you can _make_ a lock you can _pick_ it, but she needed something to keep her in the background. Weaving does that. She can sit in a corner with her loom and weave beautiful tapestries and eyes just slide right over her. It’s amazing what she hears that way.

She snuggles close to Dori as he walks, able to see her brothers following. Her eldest brother smells of sweat and blood but under it all there is the scent that she has always associated with him. The smell of tea and home. It’s comforting.

“Missed you,” she breathes into his chest and he squeezes her to him a little tighter. It makes pain lance through her shoulder, but she ignores it in favour of just being close to her fussy brother. She had feared that she might never have this again.

The king is talking to an odd little creature when they arrive at the tent. He, she thinks, is beardless and just as coated in the filth of battle as the rest of them. Her brothers know him and are obviously pleased to see him. Evidently, he is a friend and ally, and Dori mutters to her that he is a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins. There’s more to it, she thinks, but that can wait until later.

Their conversation is completely drowned in the clamour the princes make when they see her. Both are heavily bandaged and Oin looks like he is about two steps from introducing their heads to a slab of granite so that he can get them to just _stay still_.

“Worry not, boys,” she smiles at them, feeling impossibly young with how Dori is cradling her. “You haven’t gotten rid of me just yet.” They grin back at her, but it doesn’t reach their eyes. They were truly terrified they had lost her, she realises, and she feels momentarily awful for making light of their concern.

“Touching,” Oin grumbles. “Now will you two take pity on an old dwarf and get some rest?”

“But…” Kili objects with his eyes still fixed on her. The old healer clips him on the back of the head and glares him into silence.

Dori lowers her to the free cot, tugging her blanket high over her bandaged chest. _How_ had she not realised she’s practically naked before _now_? Her cheeks flush but she’s too tired to make anything of it. Her state of dress is something to worry about later, when she has slept and healed, and she waves a hand at the princes as sleep begins to claim her again. There is a weighty conversation to come soon, she knows, but it will have to wait a while. Sleep is an irresistible force and she surrenders to it willingly if only to keep from having to risk the breaking of her heart.

 There is precious little privacy to be had for such a thing in the following few days. A screen is placed to allow Lori to wash and dress, the princes too, but when it is put away one or other of her brothers remain with her. Even at night one of them will sleep in a bedroll at the end of her bed (like anyone will try anything with the state they’re all in) and healers are constantly fluttering around Thorin who has developed a fever. Still, there is a conversation that _must_ be had, and Lori is acutely aware that time is running out before they are released and made to leave this sanctuary of healing for the horrors of the outside world. Outside where battle dreams will wake her alone and leave her terrified without the comforting sounds of her companions. Outside where life and position and responsibilities will resume and change, where she will once again dance around the truth that she has avoided confronting for twenty-five years.

In Ered Luin it was easy to excuse it. She needed time to complete her mastery of weaving, which would give her just as secure a cover in the outside world as it did in the Blue Mountains. She needed to gather money and supplies. She needed to plan where she would go. In Ered Luin getting her heart broken would mean picking up her life and running from her pain.

At the foot or Erebor there are no such excuses. She could quite easily pick up and leave. Return to her life in the Blue Mountains and her training with Master Torvin. She could hide in the place that she was born until her heart becomes stone enough for her to face the princes without more than a twinge, without feeling the agony of her heart breaking every day. Time heals all wounds, they say.

But she’s getting ahead of herself.

First, she needs to get rid of Nori, who is sat next to her playing with one of his knives and watching the princes through hooded eyes. They are engaged in one of their quiet arguments, the ones that are part hissed words, part standard Iglishmek and part signs of their own that they have refused to teach even their family and closest friends. She catches some of it ‘ _past time_ ’, ‘ _little reason to think_ ’ and ‘ _Uncle can…’_ but she is accustomed to the way that they sometimes half sign words in a way that Nori is not. She’d be a useless spy if she hadn’t picked up _some_ of their secret signs.

Thorin is sleeping, his fever passed the day before. He had been by far the worst injured and once the infection had developed it had become a matter of some debate as to whether he would survive at all. Fortunately, and much to everyone’s relief, he is on the mend. Bilbo, who has been telling her of the quest, and Balin are off dealing with the leader of Men (she still hasn’t managed to catch his name), Thranduil and Dain. This is as much privacy as the three who _need_ it are likely to get and of her brothers Nori is the most likely to let her have it. Dori, not that she is surprised, has become utterly smothering in his over protectiveness. Almost as though he expects her to bolt as soon as she has been left alone. Ori is too fearful of Dori’s disapproval to risk leaving her with the princes no matter how many times she asks him. Nori knows she can take care of herself, even injured, and her collar had stopped Azog (as she had learnt he was called) from doing too much damage to her neck so she can still scream if she needs to. If not for the mud outside making it difficult for her to get around on one foot and a stick she would have been released already as Fili has, although he’s been placed on minimal duties to avoid tearing his stitches.

She draws her brother’s attention and makes a gesture, thief sign. -Outside.-

Nori shakes his head and points his knife at the princes and sleeping king. Then he gestures to his eyes. She scowls.

-Watch outside.- She makes a few more sharp gestures. -Talk to Fili and Kili- with a significant look to indicate that the conversation is to be private. The language lacks subtleties, consisting mostly of pointing to various body parts in a fashion that could almost be restless shifting. Normally it’s used to identify marks and a course of action but there is enough scope for her purpose here.

Nori makes a few more gestures that translate to it needing to wait until he can watch properly without overhearing so that nothing inappropriate happens. She snorts at that, it’s not something that he’s ever been concerned about before.

-Injuries. Won’t happen-

-Injuries won’t stop kissing- he gestures back with a grimace. She arches an eyebrow. They’ve both done far more than that in their time, he knows it, she knows it. She wonders where this protectiveness was when she was in her early sixties near the boarder with Harad distracting a mark.

“ _Please_ ,” she breathes and turns pleading eyes on him. For a moment she thinks that he will continue to deny her then he takes one last look at the princes, heaves a sigh and nods with a roll of his eyes. He moves his chair to between Fili and Kili’s beds, helps Lori hobble over and settles her.

“You’ve got as long as it takes me to find something to eat,” he growls at them. “Do _not_ make me regret this.” He waves his knife under all three noses and saunters out. The silence that follows is awkward.

“So, you came looking for us,” Kili says finally.

“I was looking for my brothers too,” she shrugs, “I just happened to find Fili first. I’m glad I did.” They wouldn’t have survived otherwise, she knows. It had been too near a thing and without her Fili would have had to make the impossible choice between his Uncle and his brother (lover) for all the good it would have done them. They still would have died.

“You stood with us,” Fili says. “You stood with our uncle.”

“I would have stood by you without him,” she tells them, “but I don’t know if I would have gone to him if I’d had to choose between him and Kili, or you.” They are building to something, she knows, and her own honestly will only help with that. From experience she is aware that it is better to let them get to the point on their own.

“You know Kili and I…” Fili trails off.

She nods. She knows because she knows _them_ and because ferreting out secrets has long been her job. It’s actually one of the better kept secrets in Ered Luin, for all the jokes about how inseparable they are and how any bride of one will have to put up with the other. Not because they’re brothers (it’s happened before and even though it isn’t common it’s not frowned upon the way Elves and Men do) but because they’re the _heirs_ and one of them will _have_ to marry if the line is to continue. She has heard Thorin lament this often enough, the need for a political marriage that will stand in the way of Fili and Kili’s happiness. The fact that there is no obvious third, or even fourth, that might make this easier. She had known that they were her One for about a decade by that point, but it hadn’t given her the courage to say anything.

“There’s always been something missing,” Kili picks up. “We knew it before we met you and had sort of made our peace with the idea that it would be a long time until we found it.”

“If we ever did at all,” Fili adds.

“Then we saw _you_ and we knew,” Kili finishes.

“You never said anything,” she replies. Her heart is racing with the realisation that they have known longer than she has, although not by all that much.

“We had to be sure,” Fili tells her. “And then the assassination attempts started, and we decided that we didn’t want to drag you into that mess.”

“I was already involved.”

“Of course, you were,” Kili laughs. “ _You’re_ more like Nori than you would have people believe.”

“I’m a theif, spy and assassin in my own right,” she shrugs. They know this, she’s told them a number of times over the years. She’s never wanted to lie to them so while she had kept her mouth shut about the real reason she had been at their training ring the day that they noticed her she has never hidden the truth of who and what she is from them.

“And you’ve been using those skills to keep us safe all these years,” Fili’s eyes are shining, and she knows _that_ emotion because normally the only times she notices it he’s directing it at his brother. But this, this is all for _her_. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, his palm warm and rough and she leans into it.

“We should have told you _years_ ago,” Kili rests his head against her shoulder and she feels a sob escape her lips. She nearly lost her chance at this. Nearly lost them both and she can’t think of any of the reasons she had been so scared to speak of it except…

“I’m nobody,” she says softly, because no matter what she has done in the eyes of so many it’s the truth. She’s a bastard, two of her three brothers are bastards, and the identity of her father will never be determined with any certainty. She has made her peace with that, wrapped the unchangeability of it around her like a shield and used it to build a confidence she doesn’t always feel.

“You’re our One,” Fili replies firmly. “We’ll have no other but you. Not even Uncle can change that.”

“I would not dare try,” the king’s voice rumbles from his cot. Apparently, he’s been feigning sleep and Lori really needs to get her head back in the game because she shouldn’t have missed that. “I had begun to fear I would have to _order_ the three of you to come to the point. Your brothers, Miss Lori, are now all powerful in their own right as valuable members of my Company and heroes.”

“Not to mention they’re all ridiculously wealthy, now, too,” Kili interjects with a goofy grin.

“Yes,” Thorin agrees and he gives his sister-son a fond smile. “For all that, though, I think the people will be more impressed with _your_ actions. That you left the safety of the Iron Hills to find them and faced _Azog_ for their sake and that you did it because _they_ are _your_ One.”

“How did you know?” She asks. She isn’t certain that even Nori knows with such unshakable certainty and Nori seems to know everything.

“I heard what you said to Azog, I heard you tell him that they are _yours_. Such a declaration in the heat of battle?” He raises an eyebrow at her and smirks. “It will be a romantic story for the ages. None will stand in the way of it.”

“You’re _ours_ , now,” Kili’s smirk is distressingly like his uncle’s.

“ _We_ are _yours_ ,” Fili adds, and it is so rare to see them as serious as they have been but it is so fitting too. His lips brush against hers, the faintest of caresses then he draws back and allows Kili to do the same before they share a chaste kiss with one another. None of them push for anything more, Thorin is awake and watching after all. They settle for pressing their foreheads together, auburn braids mingling with blonde and brunette like a blazing sunrise between night and day.

Lori has no idea how long they stay in this content bubble, their breath mixing as they bask in just being together and _aware_ and loved. There are a million details that they need to sort out, still, courting braids to be woven and beads to be given. Announcements to be made and gifts to be exchanged. Dates to be set and contracts to be written. The decision on whether or not a courtship is even necessary will have to be made as well. They have known each other long enough, after all.

“Well isn’t this a pretty picture,” she hears Nori drawl and she sighs. Beside them Thorin chuckles. “Excellent chaperoning, Thorin.”

“I thought I would allow them that much,” the king replies with obvious good humour. “It has taken them long enough to get to it.”

If Nori’s laughter is anything to go by, he agrees.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for internalised hobbit homophobia and general bigotry. It's only a couple of sentences and not expressed as anything more than a confused opinion but better warned than not. I think my own history and this fic say very clearly that I don't agree with the opinion expressed.

Dori, much to Lori’s unending irritation, is utterly horrified. Not so much because her One happens to come in the form of _two_ dwarrow (it really isn’t all _that_ unusual). Nor is it because it’s _Fili_ and _Kili,_ who may not have been completely discrete but at least they have proven themselves devoted to one another. In fact, it has nothing at all to do with the identity and nature of her Ones and everything to do with the fact that they don’t want to enter a courtship at all.

As far as Lori, Fili and Kili are concerned an intimate friendship of more than twenty years leaves very little for them to explore during a courtship and Dori is horrified that they want to skip that part entirely and simply announce their engagement. Most of what there is left to discover revolves around them all learning each other. Knowing _where_ to touch and _how_ , if Fili is sensitive in the same places as Kili or if they are opposites there in the same way that they are in appearance, for them to learn how different it is to be with her from how it is to be with each other. Some of this can be discovered during the engagement, the rest will likely take them most of the rest of their lives. Lori already knows what they like for breakfast each morning, that if they aren’t drinking ale or water they prefer coffee. She knows that Fili’s eyes will always seek Kili first whenever he walks into a room (although as the years go by she will begin to notice that they each seek her first as often as the other) and that Kili flirts because he is a flirt by nature and not because it ever means anything.

They know her as well. They know that she favours mead over ale, that she prefers honey on her bread to jam, that she has a brightly coloured tattoo of a firebird on her left shoulder that even _Nori_ nearly exploded in rage over. They know that even in a safe place she never has any less than six knives hidden about her person and that she prefers to braid her hair into one thick plait and twist it into a knot at the back of her skull, a knot she secures with a pair of long silver pins that have points like needles that can reach a Man’s heart or pierce through the spaces between the bones of the spine. They know that she has a dark past, that she has done a lot of things of dubious morality and that she was born outside of a marriage to a widowed dam who took lovers to try and hide from her broken heart (although Dori has always told her that her father and Nori’s were the same, that their sire was the only one to come to their mother more than a handful of times and over several decades). They know that for every five secrets she shares with them she has at least one that she will never allow them to discover.

They all know that there will never be any question of their loyalty to one another.

Dori doesn’t understand this. Likely doesn’t realise that even while surrounded by their closest friends Fili and Kili had always sought her out first, that they had always shared with her what they did not with so many others. Dori doesn’t understand because he has never seen. He only knows that there were weeks where Lori remained near the royal lodgings in Ered Luin, where she didn’t return home for days and nights at a time. Mornings where she finally entered through a window only to be grey with exhaustion, bruised and bloodied (although she would never tell him _who_ the blood belonged to) and he had feared that. Though he knows the princes so well, now, he fears those memories and what they might be a sign of. Fears the danger in Lori’s future for all that the trio are determined that as soon as Princess Dis arrives there _will_ be a wedding. No matter what Dori has to say on the subject. After all, had they not been so pig-headed about waiting and fearing that one party or the other didn’t feel the same then they might have been married nearly eight years ago when Kili came of age.

Ori, naturally, thinks the whole thing is terribly sweet. Ori would. He has known that his sister has been pining for someone for years, his nose might be nearly always in his books but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t _see_ (Nori taught him that as well, thank you very much). He argues that it has been hard to miss, even if Dori somehow did in his focus on bruises and blood and a feral smile when his questions came too close to the mark. Ori doesn’t care that it’s Fili _and_ Kili. Ori doesn’t care that the three of them want the shortest royal engagement _ever_. He doesn’t care that the trio can only bring themselves to wait a few months. He wouldn’t care if they all got married tomorrow so long as they’re happy. Ori just thinks that it’s disgustingly romantic and isn’t it about time that Nori got his head out of his ass and told Dwalin how he feels.

Lori happens to agree whole heartedly with that part.

As for Nori. Well. As far as Lori is concerned Nori is an all-knowing gigantic shit. The all-knowing part being the reason that he even came to Thorin’s attention at all thirty years ago. Nori may play fast and loose with the general laws surrounding property ownership and killing people (and Lori doesn’t begrudge him that because she does too and if he hadn’t she wouldn’t have made it out of her infancy anyway), but he has some rules he holds as more sacred than anything other than his family. The first of those being that, where he can help it, children must _never_ be harmed. She has seen Nori give the last coin from his pocket to a mother struggling to feed her children (not that it makes much of a difference to one as skilled as he is if he is able to pay for his food or not). About thirty years ago Nori had heard of a plot to kill the young princes and purge the taint from the line of Durin. While Fili and Kili hadn’t exactly been _children_ (Kili wasn’t even in his fifties), they weren’t of age either. Nori may not have been able to give Lori the innocent youth she deserved, she was too like him and if he didn’t take her under his wing someone more dangerous would, but he could allow the young princes to have it. No one would have listened to him had he tried to warn anyone, and he would have been arrested anyway, so he had taken care of it himself. He had been caught taking care of it and instead of being ignored or vilified he had rather suddenly found himself with legitimate employment that made use of his many questionable skills. Dwalin had been watching him for years, Nori likes to show off and had called attention to himself, this had been the excuse he needed. 

In a bid to keep Lori safe he had trained her to spy and _see_ and blend, then placed her near the princes to guard and protect in the way that Dwalin’s people couldn’t. Even now she wonders if Nori already knew what those boys would one day become to her. She can’t think of any possible way that he could have known, not when she didn’t for sure until the morning that Fili and Kili grabbed her by the hands and dragged her into the ring and told her to show them what she could do. But Nori is that bastard who knows all and sees all. He probably saw something, somewhere, that gave him an inkling and while he has never had the time or inclination for _love_ and _devotion_ and _Ones_ he had encouraged her to believe in it all the same.

Kili is finally, _finally_ , wearing his braids. Nearly eight years after coming of age, when the childhood braids are removed and the early beard shaved to make way for adult growth, Kili has finally replaced his family braids, added Fili’s and taken Lori’s as well. It’s strange to see his fly away hair finally being tamed but as they are both still confined to the healing tent until Erebor is habitable enough for them to be moved inside there is little to keep them entertained aside from braiding increasingly ridiculous styles into one another’s hair (even if his broken arm and her shoulder wound make them clumsy). You don’t grow up with someone as fussy about his braids as _Dori_ without picking up a few tricks.

Fili’s additional braids aren’t as strange, hers and Kili’s nestling nicely between the ones that mark his family and his status as Crown Prince and the others that mark his mastery of the sword and leatherworking. When she asks him why he and Kili never publicly claimed one another before now it had led to a rather halting conversation which had shown just how aware both the princes were of certain obligations. They both knew that Thorin would never marry and they could not face the thought of claiming one another knowing that they would have to put it to one side in order to do their duty to their people. Knowing that their responsibility to their line and Durin’s folk would always have to come before love, if not for Lori and their realisation that _she_ was what had been missing. Thorin, unaware that Lori overheard so many discussions in the past, confirms what they tell her. He tells them all that until Azanulbizar Thorin’s own father and grandfather were beginning to place pressure on him to take a wife. It had never been something that he wanted for his sister-sons and she can practically _feel_ his relief at the way that events have unfolded.

The Company, of course, are utterly thrilled. Fili and Kili hadn’t exactly been obvious but Lori hadn’t thought for one second that they would be able to keep a lid on their feelings for one another during the entirety of the quest. She had been right. Those in the Company with an awareness of how these things work in a royal setting had been concerned for them. That noted, more than one had also seen the wistful glances that the pair had exchanged whenever her name had been mentioned by one of her brothers. Most likely Dori and Ori, while Nori is proud of her he tends to keep their association with one another as much of a secret as possible both to keep her safe and as a secret weapon.

Bilbo, bless him, is the only one confused by the whole thing, which she knows hurts Fili and Kili more than they want to admit. The entire Company are fond of the little hobbit (and Thorin is _more_ than fond if the looks she catches him sending the tiny creature are anything to go by) but it’s obvious that no one has ever bothered to explain all that much of dwarven culture to him. Bilbo will need to learn a lot if the longing little looks are ever to amount to anything.

Lori’s a _spy_ , she’s supposed to notice these things. Mahal knows Nori would probably skin her if he thought she missed it and old habits die hard.

Hobbits, she learns when she catches Bilbo alone one afternoon, subscribe to the same belief that Men do. Marriage is between one man and one woman. He believes Elves think the same thing but Lori neither knows nor cares. In a people where the gender split is more even (and hobbits have _how_ many children on average?) that sort of blinkered thinking makes sense, but her people have had to do things differently. And, in her opinion, better. Before Erebor fell the split between male and female ran somewhere between two and three to one. After Erebor fell the split became wider still with the loss of so many of their women and children. Not every dam takes a husband or bears young, those that _do_ generally only take one husband (it isn’t just gold and jewels that her people are possessive about). Sometimes, or so they believe, the soul their Maker creates is so great that it has to be split between three or even four bodies. This is a great gift, she tells the hobbit, and none question a dam who takes several husbands so long as everyone involved is happy with the arrangement. At the end of it all, no matter the combination, love is love (and a fuck is a fuck) and the discovery of your One is a sacred thing that no one will stand in the way of. It would be a sad life, indeed, if so many were doomed to live without love, affection and carnal satisfaction simply because of the _gender_ of their lover.

The way Bilbo’s eyes light up when she tells him that makes her think that the king might finally take a consort after all. His congratulations to Fili and Kili later are far more heartfelt and she relaxes to see _them_ relax with it.

Which, of course, is when the assassination attempts start up again.

The engagement (because _‘fuck you, Dori’_ it’s an engagement) hasn’t been announced. Partly because Lori, Fili and Kili refuse to accept an announcement less than an engagement, which Dori is still fighting with them about, and partly because they are waiting for Thorin to be healed enough to make it himself. Also, it wouldn’t hurt for it to be made from the throne _inside_ the mountain as an even more obvious endorsement of the whole thing. Which doesn’t mean that any dwarf with _eyes_ and a functioning brain isn’t aware that one is coming. Fili is in peace talks with Dain and Balin every day after all and his new braids aren’t exactly subtle. They aren’t meant to be.

Lori _knows_ something has to happen. She had made a full report of her findings to Nori and Thorin as soon as the king was awake and coherent enough to hear and process it. Thorin, with Balin’s agreement, had been inclined to wave it off. He has retaken Erebor and the Arkenstone, achieved exactly what he had set out to do and then some. With the way that everything has turned out neither of them thinks that anyone will make an attempt on Thorin or his heirs for some time. Lori finds it hard to believe that Balin and Thorin could both be so politically naïve. Nori had more colourfully expressed the same opinion and Dwalin (when informed by Nori because the large guard has always been incredibly paranoid as far as the safety of the royals goes) had fallen somewhere in between.

Besides, Thorin _is_ the king and so there is always a guard on the tent anyway. Lori and Nori would both prefer that the only guards be members of the Company but that isn’t practical as they all have their own hurts to tend and own duties to complete. Lori demands that he brother bring her as many of her knives as have been retrieved. Her brother agrees and adds a few of his own besides.

On the day that it happens their guard is an unfamiliar one from the Iron Hills. He’s young and somehow managed to make it out of the battle for Erebor unscathed. Lori would like to excuse what happens next on his youthful naivety, but she is too jaded and suspicious for that. She might only be eighty-nine but she has been doing this for too long, and been taught too well, to just assume _anyone_ is that completely innocent. Being new, and young, perhaps he doesn’t know that the only ones who bring food for the occupants of the tent are Fili, Nori, Dori and Bombur. Everyone is busy but that is a concession that even _Balin_ had allowed once Nori’s temper had run its course.

The dwarf that comes in with a tray bearing bowls of the same thick stew they have been eating for the ten days since the battle is unknown to them. There is something familiar about him that she can’t quite put her fingers on and she watches him closely as he hands a bowl to Thorin first and Kili next. He moves wrong, she thinks, wrong for a soldier and wrong for a servant. There’s no sign of injury on this dwarf either, and no battle damage to his armour.

“Where’s the usual server?” She asks lightly as she takes her bowl, lifting it to her nose to inhale deeply as though savouring the scent of food. It smells different, wrong, and she tenses slightly. Across the room she sees Thorin freeze when he hears her question, his spoon hallway to his mouth, and at the table that has been set up for their use Kili does the same. The unknown dwarf stares at her.

“Bifur sends his apologies,” he says with a smile that _would_ be reassuring if Lori were anyone else. If Lori were anyone else she would let that slip be explained as a moment of confusion. Lori isn’t anyone else and she hears Kili make a soft noise as Thorin’s spoon drops from his hand into the bowl he holds.

“Wrong answer,” Lori snarls.

She has ever been of the principle that you can always apologise later if you make a mistake in these situations. You can’t if you hesitate and end up dead. Lori doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t listen to her ankle as it screams at her from within her sturdy boots, ignores that way that it tries to go out from under her in favour of grabbing the unknown dwarf and slamming his face into the side of her cot before twisting his arm painfully behind him and placing a knife at his throat.

“Sloppy,” she informs him, eying the dark shade of his hair that now doesn’t seem quite right.

He struggles against her, growling curses at her that, among other things, calls her parentage into question (which it always has been, no need to get upset over that like so many others would). She’ll probably have to kill him, she thinks, she isn’t at full strength and all it will take is a well-placed kick to her sprained ankle and he’ll be able to break free. She can’t afford that, she won’t risk Kili or Thorin and warns them with a glare to stay back. The stitches in her shoulder pull and she’s glad that he can’t see her wince. Then Nori is there, and _his_ strength does what her injuries are preventing her from doing. She pulls her knife away from the would-be assassin’s neck as he slumps unconscious then meets the worried hazel glare of her brother.

“You’re supposed to kill them,” he reminds her, “not play with them.”

“I didn’t want to get blood all over the place,” she replies with a hiss as her injuries remind her that she is supposed to be healing not wrangling assassins so that she can get answers from them. She waves his concern off in favour of getting close to her unconscious opponent to examine him.

Nori crouches, deft hands weaving a wire reinforced rope around ankles and legs before he moves to the assassin’s wrists. Lori stops him when a tattoo catches her eyes, too new and stark against the shiny skin underneath. Dimly she hears the commotion of others arriving, she ignores it as she puts together all the little things that she had seen with this new, final, piece of information. The dye job that has taken poorly to sections of his hair, the way braids have been used as an attempt to mask a damaged ear, which she curses herself for missing while holding him. It is the tattoo that seals it all though, the tattoo placed to hide the ugly burn scar that she knows all too well. She knows it because _she_ is the one who burned the bastard in the first place (not an easy thing to do to dwarrow unless you’re _really_ determined, and she had been, spirit of niter is a wonderful thing). This one had been behind the fifth attempt on the princes and that time Dwalin had insisted that the assassin be kept alive so that they could get information. That was the only time one of the assassins had lived and so the only time one of them had escaped. Lori has been looking for him off and on for years and nearly caught him twice before now.

“Should have done something about him when I ran across him in the Iron Hills,” she snarls. “He’s called Tarl and he’s one of Lord Vorik’s. This is my fault, I should have risked tipping the old sod off to kill this piece of orc shit.”

Thorin’s breath comes out in a whoosh. Vorik is one of the _old_ council, the fusty old bastards who had stayed in comfort in the Iron Hills rather than take the hard life of an exile. He had been one of Thror’s staunchest supporters in the days of Erebor’s glory.

“You’re certain?” Thorin asks. They had already planned on watching the old lord upon his return anyway. Fortunately, Lori is suspicious by nature and had taken to following him around the Iron Hills in her time there. Unfortunately, the only proof she has of the matter is her word. Tarl won’t give them anything. Her nod is followed by a blast of expletives from Dwalin, who is quickly restrained by his brother, and Nori looks like he is contemplating causing some serious damage of his own.

It is _Fili’s_ reaction that makes Lori tremble.

He is beside Kili, his arm around his brother, blue eyes wide and anguished and his face paler than she has ever seen it. He’s devastated, she knows. Devastated that they haven’t even started restoring Erebor, haven’t even cleaned up from the battle, and already someone has tried to kill those he loves most. Devastated that he wasn’t there to protect them, that he was ignorant of the danger until Dwalin’s shout had drawn him out of the peace talks and into the nearby tent. Upset that he had come this close to losing them when he didn’t even know there was a chance it might happen at all and that Lori has, once again, been dragged into it all. Then he is pulling her into his arms and holding her tight against him. She ignores the throb of her sprained ankle and the pulse of her shoulder. For just a moment she allows herself to stop being Nori’s ever vigilant, jaded, little spy of a sister and lets herself be an innocent girl in love with a prince that she has never allowed herself the chance to be before. No one says anything, not even when Kili joins them and the three huddle together.

“Stew was poisoned,” Nori says into the silence.

Just like that the spy and assassin come back to the front of Lori’s mind, even though she doesn’t remove herself from the comfort of her Ones arms she still looks at her brother and nods as she taps her nose to show that she had smelt it. His sharp grin and nod of approval makes a knot in her untwist, even now she hates to disappoint him. She begins thinking out loud, Nori is a fantastic thief and spy but when it comes to killing without being seen she is the better of the two (she’ll never be as good a thief as he is though). Tarl is clumsy, far too clumsy to have survived this job for so long without a great deal of luck. Vorik could easily afford better so either he isn’t willing to pay the price, or the better assassins won’t work for him. Nori agrees it’s probably the latter and tells her that he will handle things. Better as few people as possible know her role in thwarting this is anything more than luck. Better people believe that the future princess is just a vapid little weaver with a protective streak a mile wide when it comes to her Ones. Sooner or later everything will come out, these things nearly always do, but better that it be later when they can control it more.

Lori happily agrees to that, she prefers the shadows anyway.

Two things happen as a result of this attempt on Thorin’s life. First, the restoration of Erebor’s royal wings is stepped up enough to have the princes, king and Company safely inside the royal quarters under guard within a week. Secondly, Dori _finally_ agrees that a wedding has to happen very quickly. They agree on the week after Princess Dis and her caravan arrive, both to allow their injuries to fully heal and because they all know that Dis will shave the lot of them if she _isn’t_ there to witness her boys take their bride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure about the attempt to kill off the three of them when I read through this, I've tried it with and without and my beta reader told me to keep it. Apparently the next chapter makes more sense with it than without so we kept it. Much to the glee of my little inner Lori who hasn't gone completely quiet and will probably demand I write her some more at some point in the future. It's been a long time since I've had such a clear character in my head. I'm not used to it.
> 
> Spirit of niter is also known as nitric acid and is often used in diluted quantities for etching. Some of the earliest mentions of it are found in documents from C13th so I figured it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that the dwarves might have access to it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a time jump with this one.

To the surprise of absolutely no one the old Lords of Erebor refuse to return from their comfortable refuge in the Iron Hills until repairs within the mountain have reached the point that they will be able to live with the ease they are accustomed to. With Thorin’s focus being on getting the mountain habitable in the most basic sense so that the common Ereborean dwarrow can return and make it productive again luxury could take years to achieve. He doesn’t apply any pressure (and doesn’t mention the fact that there is going to be a royal wedding long before then either), he wants the miners and craftsmen and merchants back before anything else. Erebor won’t flourish without its people and they have been living as exiles for too long. It will, however, do just fine without the half of the council that is made up of fussy old dwarrow who are still too mired in Thror’s way of thinking to understand their own people.

Dain and his troops remain through winter, it being too late to return to the Iron Hills by the time the clean up from the battle is done and there being too much to achieve to welcome the caravans in the spring to leave it to fifteen people. Most of the soldiers who fought in what has become known as the Battle of the Five Armies (a rather pretentious name if you ask Lori) decide to stay in Erebor when spring arrives. Some are descended from those who were able to take refuge with Dain’s people, others simply want a fresh start where they might be able to achieve more than they would if they remained in their halls of birth. Dain departs as the first caravans trickle in and Lori is glad of it. She likes Thorin’s cousin well enough, but she doesn’t _know_ him. He’s an unknown element even after the year she spent in the Iron Hills and she doesn’t like those. She smiles and plays the same game of politeness that he does (he doesn’t trust her either, no surprise) for the sake of Thorin and her Ones but still breathes a sigh of relief when he leaves.

She watches the Iron Hills soldiers who stayed very closely for the next several years.

The assassin gave them no information, something that Lori and Nori fail to be surprised about. Despite their warnings Dwalin _is_ surprised and expresses his frustration with it through a comment about there being no honour among thieves, sell-swords and death merchants. Lori laughs long and hard at that one while Nori smirks and winks at the guardsman. Thieves and assassins (mercenaries are their own breed altogether and avoid the other two groups where possible) have their own codes of conduct and the penalties for breaking them are far more brutal than any honest dwarf can imagine. Far worse than a simple shaving and beheading (as the assassin experienced) or some broken bones, there’s a reason that dwarrow who have that sort of employment don’t tend to have families.

Bilbo leaves at the earliest sign of spring, while the ground still frosts overnight and their breath mists before them until at least midmorning. He has, he tells them, been away from home with no communication for too long and needs to get back to his responsibilities. Lori has watched the hobbit and Thorin closely over winter, not that either of them realise it, and she sees their heartache more clearly than they must realise (probably because she saw it in the mirror every day for so many years). Bilbo is miserable in the mountain, he is a creature made for open skies, grassy pastures and rolling hills. Even Thorin can see that the deep dark and crushing weight of the mountain is not good for the hobbit and Bilbo will not ask the king to surrender his hard-won throne to Fili, who is both so young to take it and soon to be very agreeably distracted. Lori firmly advises Nori to take guard duty of the corridor to Thorin’s chambers the night before Bilbo’s departure. Nori, to her surprise, does so without question with Dwalin at his side. His nod in response to her raised eyebrow the next morning is all she needs, better that no one have _this_ over Thorin as well.

Bilbo leaves with red rimmed eyes, dark circles under them that betray a lack of sleep, and a stiff gait. He looks back four times and each time Thorin is stood on the walls watching, his back straight and hands clasped behind him. The king’s face is a blank mask until that final turn when the cracks begin to show and if tears are shed that morning Lori (in the shadows unseen) and Thorin are the only ones to know it. _She_ will take that information to her grave.

Dori throws himself into wedding planning with utter gusto. There will be nothing but the best of everything he can get his hands on for his only sister and her Ones. His only laments are that it will be so very soon and that Dis will not be involved in the way he knows she would wish to be. Lori does her part with a smile as much as possible (they all do) but were this anything other than a royal wedding all three would have insisted on only the barest of necessities as far as contract and oaths go. Thorin, of course, will perform the ceremony. Yet another sign of his approval and a huge ‘ _fuck you_ ’ to the lords who will eventually return and more than likely object.

Lori, Fili and Kili are all more than ready for it to be over. When she isn’t creeping around the city during the day making sure that her Ones and family are safe she is with them. At night, when she should be in her own rooms with the sounds of her brothers snoring around her, she sneaks out to join the princes in their chamber instead. Dori and Ori are ignorant of it, they might suspect but never catch her, but she has never been able to sneak past Nori. The all-knowing shit just smiles his deadliest smile at Fili and Kili every morning and makes her promise, repeatedly, that things will not go past a certain point. So, there is kissing and touching and exploring, a few too few layers of clothing and they push the boundaries of that promise until they’re paper thin but don’t take those final steps no matter how badly they want to.

Lori is no blushing innocent, few dwarrow her age _are,_ and she was young when she lost that part of her innocence anyway. Nori had been furious (because she’s his _namadith_ and he can’t protect her from everything but he should have been able to protect her from doing that at such a young age), but sex comes with the territory of being a thief and a spy. At least, to her mind, it had been with a boy her own age, that she had been moderately fond of, rather than a mark. It will be different with Fili and Kili because she loves them, and she _wants_ to wait for the wedding night to preserve that difference and start fresh.

Which doesn’t change the fact that it’s bloody hard.

She has explained her reasoning to them, that it is less about her promise to Nori and more about distancing herself from some of the darker elements of her past, and both of her Ones make the same promise. They may not understand from their own experience, but they are willing to go along with hers and that is the most that she could ever ask of them.  They learn each other in new ways, ways that will be valuable to their wedding night and the rest of their future and she finds herself disgustingly happy with even that little bit.

Spring is well established, and tending towards summer, when Princess Dis and her caravan finally arrive. The distant composure of royalty is abandoned in favour of her simply leaping from her pony and dragging both of her sons into bone crushing hugs. Fili and Kili object vocally but no one misses the way that they cling to their mother as tightly as she does to them or the wetness in their eyes when they part. Dis’ expression when she turns on her brother briefly promises violence, but she smooths it into little more than a cool nod. There will be _words_ later and Lori begins to think of ways to get close enough to listen. The times that Dis gives Thorin a piece of her mind have always been entertaining.

Lori is stood to one side with Dwalin and Balin. Although this is not the first time that she has appeared in public since her engagement was announced she has yet to become accustomed to it. Even when she was in Ered Luin and discretely watching over Fili and Kili she remained out of sight as much as she could, her public and very real friendship with them notwithstanding. Being so on view, so close to the centre of things, leaves her a little off balance and will take her some time to adjust to. Fittingly for the occasion, she has been dressed as the future princess that she is. Her auburn hair has been brushed and oiled until the lattice of braids it has been arranged into gleams in the sunlight, her amber eyes glow and her dress in emerald green is some of the finest work she has even had the chance to wear.

She looks every inch a princess and Dis greets her as one.

Dis is also the only one to take the three to one side to sit with them and make sure that they are certain this is what they really want. Like Thorin and Lori Dis has never been ignorant of the way that her sons feel about one another. She has spent years trying to think of ways to make sure that neither of her boys have to sacrifice their happiness for the sake of a political marriage. She knows that Lori is close to them, both as part of her job and as a friend. She has even wondered in the past if maybe there _was_ something more between the three of them, but she has never dared to hope. So, Lori understands when she says that she has to be sure that this is what the three of them really want, that their claim is the truth. Even though Fili and Kili have always told their mother that they felt like there was another out there for them, Dis has also always known they would be content as a couple for the rest of their lives regardless of finding a third partner. Regardless of their answer she won’t stop them, they are all adults and there are interactions and conversations that she has missed, but she would advise them not to marry if there is even the smallest doubt or chance they could come to regret it.

Ultimately, it isn’t words the reassure her. It’s the way that Kili’s fingers dance through the lattice of braids that hangs down Lori’s back, the way Fili holds her hand and draws circles on her palm with his thumb as his mother talks. His other arm is around her shoulders to allow his free hand to rest on Kili’s forearm and Lori’s free hand is on the youngest’s knee. It’s in the way that they have knotted themselves together, even if it isn’t strictly proper, the way that every now and again they look at each other as though they can’t quite believe that this is actually happening.

Lori knows that Dis watches them as the days go on. The three of them can be found together most of the time, but there are times when Lori is alone with one or other of the boys and just as many where she is nowhere to be found. The times when it is just two of them are as important as when it is all three. Fili and Kili, though thrilled to finally have her, need time for themselves as much as she does with each of them.

With the arrival of the caravan there is no longer any reason to put off the wedding and it happens within a week. Lori fusses and frets over the potential for disaster since it will be held in the royal hall so that as many of the occupants of the mountain as possible can see the trio pledge their lives to one another. A year ago they might have gotten away with a small, common, ceremony of a witness to the braids and beads and a small contract. A simple declaration of intent and that would have been it. Now Lori worries about how exposed they will all be, about the fact that the dress she will have to wear is going to restrict her movement and the number of weapons she can carry. She worries because even though some of the spies that Nori trusts the most arrived with the caravan there are still too few of them and she is going to be too distracted to notice anything. Tarl came too close to success in the healing tent and she will be on edge until Lord Vorik is dealt with one way or the other, not that getting rid of him will ever mean the end of her worries.

“Mahal’s _balls_ ,” Nori says to her the night before the ceremony when he finds her walking through the hall looking for hiding places she might have missed. “Get to bed and _sleep_ , there’s nothing more either of us can do now. Just trust me.”

And she does trust him, because he and Dori and Ori were the only ones that she _could_ trust for so long, and she does as he tells her. Morning comes too quickly and with it too much activity to give her time to dwell on all the things that might go wrong. Nothing can change, and it is too late, now, to fret anymore.

Lori makes her way towards the throne in the royal hall (the larger, public, one, not the official throne room which Thorin still avoids if it can be helped) surrounded by her brothers. Even Nori. She wears a dress of Durin blue and mithril silver and her auburn hair cascades freely down her back. Even her family braids have been removed. Gems and precious metals glitter over her dress and skin, around her wrists and neck and fingers. All eyes are upon her and the wealth of her family that is so freely displayed for even the naysayers to note. The attention makes her squirm in discomfort and Nori puts a steadying hand on her waist for the briefest moment.

It doesn’t help much.

Suddenly the attention doesn’t matter because all of her focus shifts from the crowds watching her to the throne. Fili and Kili stand on either side of their uncle and they, too, are without braids or clasps. Even Fili’s moustache braids have been undone and on any other day she would think he looks ridiculous without them. Now, dressed in the same blue and silver as she and Kili she just thinks he is devastatingly handsome. Kili too.

They all join hands when she reaches them, holding each other tightly and hearing Thorin speak, his voice carrying effortlessly. It is traditional, in such a public ceremony with such a family, to speak of the way they have found one another. To speak of the joy that will come with it and the hope for the future. To tell the tale of this great love that they wished to share with their people and his approval of it all. He speaks of his pleasure at seeing Fili and Kili grow into the heroes they have become and of the obvious yearning in their hearts to find the final piece which would complete the soul Mahal had deemed too great for just _two_ bodies. He speaks of Lori and the lightness their shared friendship brought to the steps of his sister-sons, of how her brothers sent her to the Iron Hills to keep her safe when they joined the quest for Erebor because they knew she would follow where the princes led. He speaks of the way she instinctively _knew_ something was amiss and of how she rushed into battle to fight at their sides. He tells of her declaration before himself, her Ones and Azog. In front of a hoard of goblins and orcs as she fought so that they might live. He tells of how she would die before spending all the decades of her life alone.

He is eloquent, slightly loose with the truth, and passionate in his speech. It makes her wonder _how_ he wasn’t able to sway any other than the twelve who joined him to the cause. By the end of his speech Lori suspects even some of the hardest, stone hearted, warriors are shedding tears. She knows that her eyes are full of them, as are those of her Ones. Thorin was right the day they declared themselves to one another in the tent, told the way he just did it is a romance for the ages.

Just don’t tell the outside world that Durin’s folk are secret romantics.

Then come the braids, Fili and Kili place hers first then they all trade so that first the eldest and then the youngest’s are also put into place. They are clamped with delicate beads that Kili made especially for the occasion and though it is not the first time she sees them, Lori still marvels at the beautiful work. As they work they recite the ritual oath (with a few modifications).

“With this braid I declare our bond, I bind us as One together in poverty and wealth, in craft and family, in war and peace, in home and exile. I declare for all to see that Mahal has placed a part of _my_ soul within _you_ and _yours_ within _me._ For I am yours and you are mine, now and ever after into the halls of our fathers.”

They do _not_ kiss. Such public displays of affection are very much _not_ _done_ during royal weddings. They do take a moment to press their foreheads together and just breathe, then they are whisked away to much cheering and fanfare into a small chamber where the contracts (dealing with such formalities as names and family history and wealth and the like) are signed. Afterwards Balin graciously tells them they have half a glass before they join the celebration to _straighten_ anything they need to. He winks and chuckles as he closes the door behind him.

Many newly weds would weave their loose hair into something more respectable in that time. They would exchange the odd kiss as well, but most are content to leave those for _after_ the party. Lori is more is favour of skipping the celebrations altogether, as are her husbands, but Dis had delivered some impressive threats about what she would do to them if they don’t make an appearance. Besides, Dori and Bombur have put too much work into everything to disappoint them like that. So they settle for trading quick kisses and touches, braiding the top sections of their hair back and securing them with matching silver clasps (that Lori may or may not have stolen in Harad fifteen years ago, she isn’t going to admit anything). Lori and Kili redo Fili’s moustache braids for him, even though he’s perfectly capable of doing them himself, giggling all the while because without them he really does look a little silly. Not to mention that both of them prefer the brush of the metal beads on the ends of them against their skin when they kiss him. Which they do, lips touching against the corners of his mouth in tandem and their hands once again entwine.

It’s a perfect moment of stillness that carries them through hours of eating, drinking and dancing while they sit together at the top table in the great hall of feasting and celebrate with their friends and family (and most of the kingdom). They eat too little, drink too little, and don’t pay anything like enough attention to anyone other than themselves but it’s an indulgence that the revellers can allow today. Only Lori watches the comings and going of those around her (because no matter what she _can’t_ just switch off the instincts that have kept her alive for so long) but she laughs with her husbands more than she _sees_. Still, she spots Nori and Dwalin disappearing down a dark corridor together. She notices Bofur striking up a ribald song and dance with a pretty lass from the Iron Hills and Dori starts talking to a tinker he has been making eyes at since the caravan came in. She sees, at the same time Fili does, the way that Ori stumbles in from the same corridor their brother vanished down. Sees his beet red cheeks and wide eyes nearly popping from his skull. And she laughs in delight when Nori and Dwalin appear only moments later with rumpled clothes and swollen lips and fingers that brush in a way they never normally do.

Then, finally, they are able to leave and they depart to lewd advice and whistles and cheers. They walk to the suite that has been made _theirs_ , that they spent the winter working on together so that it would be a home ready to be claimed on their wedding night. When they reach the chambers the fire has already been lit, a spread of meat and bread and cheese has been left, and candles glow next to an overlarge looking bed which dominates the room.

It takes nearly a week for them to emerge and comes as no surprise to anyone that even after that time of seclusion they can barely keep their hands off one another. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one more chapter after this one, I think, depending on how much longer it gets and all. Children and real life get in the way of writing, as always, so it'll probably be a while before I get the next one out.

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say about Lori except she didn't do any of the things I expected her to, or behave the way I wanted her to and when I said "let's not be greedy and just have one and make it that one" she basically stuck her middle fingers up and me and carried on taking me with her. So there we are. Also, book based BOFTA for the most part because much as I enjoy the films I hated that Fili and Kili didn't die together. And seven year old me still hates that they died at all (7 year old me wanted to track Tolkien down herself and hurt him for killing them all)


End file.
